Obituary for Herbert C. Quay

I don't care if it's crazy to write an obituary for my cat

Mr. Herbert C. Quay, age 9, died at home on Thursday, July 10, 2025. He was surrounded by loved ones when he passed.

Mr. Herbert came from unknown, humble beginnings. Born to these streets with ambiguous genetics, he was lucky to have been rescued, for he surely would not have survived. He was born with only three legs, one of many genetic anomalies we would discover over the years. He also tested positive for FIV, which lowers a cats’ immune system and is *technically* contagious. FIV positive cats are notoriously more difficult to adopt out, despite the ability to mitigate the risks immensely.

FIV is typically spread through bite wounds from infected cats. Mr. Herbert kept his risk of transmission low by not having any teeth. He arrived with one tooth, but had to have it removed in emergency Fourth of July dental surgery years three years ago when it became infected. What is cat dental surgery if not done emergency style? Hardly worth doing, I say. But I digress.

Once captured, Mr. Herbert(then Herbie. So gauche.) was locked away in a room, Rapunzel style. The foster family did not let him interact with their other cats.He spent the first year of his life fighting to survive, then completely isolated but fed. By the time we met him in the back of a PetSmart, he was a HEAD CASE.

We brought him home, let him out of the cage and he bolted under the couch for three days. Three Days! My daughter finally coaxed him out, then found out he would stay still for pets. This man was a whore for the pets from day 1. That never changed.

He was so, so sketch when he first got here. Everything spooked him. He was constantly darting under chairs and couches, away from noises. It took years, but you slowly build trust. When he first got here, he was impossible to catch. Only could pick him up if you wanted to draw back a bloody stump kind of thing. By the end, he was letting me lift him on and off the bed, up the stairs. We had a nod he would give when he was ready to get picked up. We even had a name for it-The Elevator.

He came with a whole host of health issues, the missing leg being the most obvious. Really, it effected him the least. He was so fast, it was more like a rabbit hopping, just a streak across the yard. He barfed like it was his hobby. Countless sofas and rugs have been ruined over the years. He always had the sniffles and eye boogies. The aforementioned lack of teeth. The FIV meant he was always catching some cold or virus in the winter. He was always cold. So much so that he learned to bake himself on my heating vents in the winter. Summertime was his Jam. He had psoriasis and eczema and would chew the fur off his neck. That’s how he started wearing neckties.

The tie is what led him to the job as the Head of the Accounting Department at Comfortfood. Sure, he was unqualified and people accused me of nepotism but wouldn’t you want that kind of eye candy around YOUR office?

He was universally loved, everyone that stopped by wanted to give him a pet. He let people that didnt even deserve it give him belly rubs sometimes, he was just that nice. Many a friend and neighbor has commented on his regal poses, Simba style, on the rocks on the yard. His fur was so soft, and he loved to share it with you, especially if you were wearing black. He kept his coat meticulously groomed and white, unlike his Orange Menace of a brother, who is too fat to lick his own butt. For shame. Mr. Herbert had a great sense of humor and always laughed at all my jokes. We rarely disagreed, really only about bedtime. He was a great listener and gave really good advice.

He is survived by his brother, The Orange Menace and his sister, That Bitch Eskettit. He’s also survived by his human family, who will miss him very much.

I love you, Mr. Herbert C. Quay, but I know you had to go. You were my best friend.